The mole at the back of my neck
turned out to be
just a mole
and not death
crouching inside me
and yet for a few days
the fear that sloshed
inside me like acid
also cranked my senses wider
than they had ever been
so that warmth of my daughter’s back
my son’s legs dangled over a chair
my husband’s kind blue eyes
the envelope of wind
became a cascade of perfect gifts,
simple moments that I pressed
into the softest part of my heart
with a desperate gratitude
and it is clear
that all that matters now
is learning how to live
as though I might not.